Can you support the First Amendment, and be appalled at the often-ridiculous fines levied by the FCC for a single broadcast F-bomb, and still be weary of this word's ubiquity? Anderson's movie doesn't say, but many know the answer.

A thesis-level course in the history, derivation and proper use of every sailor's favorite cuss, the movie has to wage a constant battle against potty-mouthed monotony. Fortunately, it emerges largely unscathed, and almost triumphant in its own single-minded way.

Mr. Anderson’s movie is staged as a talking-head culture-war skirmish between embattled upholders of propriety (or repression, if you prefer) and proponents of free expression (or filth), but its real lesson is that the two sides depend upon each other. Or rather, that the continued vitality of the word — its unique ability to convey emphasis, relieve stress, shock grown-ups and function as adverb, noun, verb, intensifier and what linguists call 'infix' — rests on its ability to mark an edge between the permissible and the profane.